


Proud to be a Sailor

by Imrryr



Series: The Further Adventures of Hawke and Isabela [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Epilogue, F/F, Happy Ending, Wink wink nudge nudge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imrryr/pseuds/Imrryr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fleeing Kirkwall, Hawke and Isabela run into a spot of trouble as they try to escape to Ferelden. A sequel to "I'm Your Captain." FemHawke/Isabela, one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud to be a Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> Dragon Age II is the property of EA and Bioware.
> 
> Rated M for violence, terrible jokes, and... sex. D:
> 
> The title is a nod to "Santiano" by Hugues Aufray. Oh, and I don't actually speak French (or Orlesian for that matter), so if there are any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know.
> 
> Originally posted on FFnet sometime around January 2012.

"Proud to be a Sailor" by Imrryr

...

Aboard the Siren's Call II as it crosses the Waking Sea to Ferelden...

...

Isabela slammed the door to her quarters shut and clutched her stomach as she tried to regain her composure. She hadn't laughed so hard in weeks. It felt fantastic, even if it was all very much at her lover's expense.

She found her lover lying flat on their shared bed, face buried in a pillow.

"I can't believe you said that!" The pirate giggled before jumping onto the bed to land right beside her embarrassed girlfriend.

Aerin Hawke's only response was to grab both ends of her pillow and hold them tightly against her ears.

"It's all right, you know?" she said, ruffling the woman's short black hair, "I've heard worse jokes." _'Though never one that cleared the room as effectively as yours,'_ she mentally added.

The Champion's response was muffled by the pillow, but it sounded something like, "Mmmfph oooo."

The pirate laughed again, gently patting the woman on the back, "I'm sure it'll blow over in a few days," she offered.

Hawke lifted her head, her bright blue eyes looking at the pirate in horror. Her face was red, both from the pillow, and from embarrassment. "A few _days_? It was just a stupid joke!"

"What were you expecting, Hawke?" Isabela asked, raising an eyebrow, "I mean, seriously, _urine mages_?"

The woman groaned, her head falling back to the pillow. "It sounded funnier in my head..."

Isabela would be the first to admit the joke was funny, though not for the reason Aerin had intended. Only a few moments ago, all of the mages they had rescued from the templars had been having a celebratory meal together on the normally rather unpleasant orlop deck, deep in the bowels of the ship. The Free Marches were long out of sight, and the Siren's Call would be in Denerim in less than a week if the winds remained favorable.

Isabela had been there along with Hawke, Varric, Bodahn, and a few members of the crew. The most notable absentee was Hawke's little sister Bethany. The Grey Warden had probably still been on the weather deck, bent over the rail and offering the contents of her stomach to the Lord of the Deep. Life on the waves apparently did not agree with her.

After sharing war stories about the templar attack, the conversation had turned to Orsino, and then inexorably to blood magic. Varric had wanted to know what was so special about blood anyway, so one of the senior mages attempted to explain it to him. Blood has enormous power, she had said, because blood is life itself. A maleficar only required a small amount of blood for a spell that might require enormous amounts of lyrium for a Circle mage to cast.

Merrill had been noticeably uncomfortable during this turn in conversation but Varric had persisted, wondering if it was really necessary for maleficar to slit their wrists before casting spells. It always put him off his lunch, he joked. But the senior mage assured everyone that it was necessary for the blood to be sacrificed, thus why it was exposed to the air. That's when Hawke, who had a big smile on her face at that moment, chimed in that she was glad there was no such thing as urine magic.

The effect was both instantaneous and hilarious. The pleasant chattering of some twenty or so people went completely silent as everyone looked at the Champion of Kirkwall like she had grown a second head or something. The poor woman's face went an impressive shade of crimson and she quickly excused herself, though not before both Isabela and Varric were seized with uncontrollable laughter.

"Look on the bright side," the pirate soothed, "at least Bethany wasn't there." Merrill certainly was though, and the horrified look on her face had been absolutely priceless.

"Oh, Maker! Bethany!" Aerin sat up and put her head in her hands. "She's going to find out..."

There came a knock at the door, and a soft, feminine voice calling from the other side, "Are you two decent in there?"

"Speak of the sister and she shall appear," Isabela whispered into her lover's ear as she hugged her from behind.

Hawke's entire body tensed as though it were the Arishok behind that door, back from the dead and eager for a rematch.

"Come on in, Sunshine!" Isabela called out happily, squeezing her annoyed lover even harder and resting her head on her shoulder.

Bethany walked in to the sight a broadly grinning Isabela hugging her sister on the bed. The pirate captain even waved at her.

Hawke gulped nervously, and even in the lamp light, they both could see just how ashen Bethany's complexion was, though whether that was because of Hawke's tactless joke, or her own upset stomach, Isabela wasn't sure.

"So..." the young mage began, looking accusingly at her older sister, "Merrill joined me at the railing a moment ago. She looked pretty ill herself."

Aerin Hawke couldn't have possibly shut her eyes any tighter.

Isabela chuckled again. Clearly, Hawke's way of dealing with this situation was to simply close her eyes and hope it went away. It was quite the opposite of how she usually dealt with her problems. There was no suppressing the pirate's urge to pick on her a bit more, "So, Bethany," she drawled, "heard any good jokes lately?"

Bethany took a seat in a nearby chair and gave Isabela a conspiratorial smile. "No. I definitely _haven't_ ," she said, putting extra emphasis on the final word.

Hawke sighed, but finally opened her eyes. "This is the worst day of my life..."

"Oh, cheer up, Hawke," Isabela said. "It isn't like this was the first joke you ever told that fell flat."

Bethany laughed, and it seemed to perk Aerin up a little bit to see it; ever since she had become a Warden, the young mage had seldom looked happy. "It's fine, Isabela. I'm used to it."

"So," Aerin began tentatively, "you're not going to change your name and pretend you've never had a sister?"

Bethany shook her head. "No. But trust me, I have thought about it."

The woman in Isabela's arms grunted. The pirate, meanwhile. had been busy amusing herself by rubbing the woman's toned stomach, exposing the creamy skin beneath her shirt and some of the many scars she had on her body.

Normally, in this situation, she would have expected Bethany to come up with an excuse to leave. The young woman had already caught them in compromising situations several times before - who knew that the mage had so many reasons to visit the forward cable locker? - but seeing the group of uncovered scars on her sister's stomach apparently gave her an irresistible opportunity to embarrass her sister a little further. "Did Aerin ever tell you where she got those scars?"

To Isabela's surprise, Hawke looked up at Bethany with fear written all over her face.

"These five here?" the pirate asked, pointing to five evenly spaced parallel gashes that ran up her chest. They weren't profoundly noticeable, and each gash was no more than an inch long. Still, it must've hurt like a bitch, she thought. "I thought you said an ogre gave you these," Isabela said, rubbing the scars with her hand, "with its claws when it picked you up and threw you?"

Hawke only grimaced.

"An ogre?" Bethany scoffed, "More like a pitchfork."

"You fell on a _pitchfork_?" That was rather - well - _lame_ , Isabela couldn't help but think.

Bethany's expression was practically sardonic as she watched her older sister squirm in the pirate's arms. She was clearly enjoying this torture. "Ha. She wishes."

" _Bethany_ ," Hawke whined.

_'Oh, this has to be good,'_ the pirate thought, Hawke never whined like that. She gave the woman another squeeze, partly because Aerin looked so cute right now she could've eaten her for desert, and partly to keep the woman from escaping, "So, what really happened then?"

The Champion of Kirkwall looked up at her sister and pleaded with her eyes, but there was clearly no way she was getting out of this one.

Bethany sighed at the pout on her sister's face but was not to be deterred. "She didn't fall, she was stabbed."

"Stabbed?" Isabela repeated. Surely, that wasn't so embarrassing, was it? "By what, a darkspawn?"

"No," Bethany answered, a grin growing on her face, "a farmer."

"A farmer?"

"Yes. Some farmer from the outskirts of Lothering caught Aerin in the hayloft... with his daughter."

"Hawke?" This was the same Aerin Hawke Isabela had known for the past seven years now? Really... The future Champion of Kirkwall seducing the farmer's daughter?

The Champion tried to defend herself, "I was sixteen!"

They both laughed while the elder Hawke grumbled. "I was sixteen once too, and never did anything like that."

Both women stared at each other, and Isabela was observant enough to know precisely what was going unsaid. Bethany couldn't have dated because it would've increased the risk of being caught by the templars. The pirate had enough experience with mages to know they sometimes found it hard to control their powers when sex was involved.

"So," Isabela drawled, trying to dispel the gloom, "how _did_ you escape this enraged farmer, Hawke?"

Bethany answered for her, "She ran topless through the woods, and climbed in through _my_ window, leaving blood _everywhere_. I patched her up."

"And you blackmailed me for the rest of the year," said Aerin accusingly.

"I was _thirteen_ ," she whined, half-mocking her sister, "of course I was going to blackmail you."

"Did this happen often?" the pirate wondered.

Bethany nodded, "All the time!" she said, causing her older sister give an exasperated sigh. "You see, Aerin had a bit of a _reputation_ in Lothering..."

The elder Hawke was scandalized, "I did not!"

"You did. You were just oblivious to it."

The way her lover's mouth stayed open after that revelation made it clear that Aerin really hadn't known. Isabela demanded to know more, "Details, please!"

"Well, most fathers only worried about keeping their daughters away from boys... the smarter ones quickly learned Aerin was far more dangerous than any teenage boy, at least when their daughters virtue was concerned."

Hawke sagged in the pirate's arms, defeated. This was icing on the cake of what was probably the most embarrassing day of her life. Isabela kissed the woman on the back of the head and tried to sooth her, "It could be worse, Hawke. I bet you could've seduced even more girls by dressing up as a boy."

The entirety of Hawke's face and upper body grew an impressively dark shade of red as her eyes slowly met her sister's. Bethany covered her mouth but couldn't hide her laughter.

The pirate gasped, "Maker! You did!"

"It was just -" Hawke sighed, "the _one_ time..." she said, holding up a single finger for emphasis.

Again the walls of the cabin echoed with laughter.

Hawke folded her arms over her chest, but she couldn't help smiling too. "Are you two done making fun of me now?"

Bethany nodded, still giggling.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" The Champion asked, looking over at her sister with wide, hopeful eyes. Those eyes could get Aerin anything she wanted it seemed... unless maybe her sister was involved.

The younger Hawke regarded her for a long moment before finally assenting, "Yes, I forgive you. Just... no more jokes. At least not until I'm gone."

Hawke stood and placed a hand over her heart, "I promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bethany made to leave. "Well, I'll leave you two to do... whatever it is you two do with each other," she said hurriedly. After giving her sister a hug, and exchanging a nod with a very amused Isabela, she left the captain's quarters and carefully shut the door behind her.

"So, this farmer's daughter..." Isabela said into the quiet, smiling all the more when Hawke groaned, "was she anything like me?"

Aerin appeared to think about it for a second, "Um... only in one respect," she replied, staring at Isabela's well-presented breasts for a moment, "Well, technically, _two_ respects," she added, giving the pirate a cheeky grin.

"Oh, come here you!" Isabela ordered. The Champion wasted no time crawling back into the pirate's arms to be kissed senseless by her very beautiful and demanding captain.

* * *

The next morning...

...

Aerin Hawke usually woke whenever Isabela did. In fact, ever since she had unexpectedly found herself on board this ship a week ago, she had stuck to the woman like a limpet. Not that the pirate seemed to mind, of course.

However, this morning she found herself waking unusually early from a very strange dream. She couldn't really remember it, only that for some reason she had an irresistible urge to check and make sure her skin wasn't purple. After confirming that yes, it was the same color it had always been, she decided that some fresh air might do her good. So, disentangling herself from her captain's grasp, Aerin donned a simple white tunic and dark trousers and wandered up to the stern of the ship.

She had been just in time to catch the rising sun. A stunning group of red and orange clouds hung in the eastern sky. Hawke tried to remember if that was a good sign or not. _'Red sky at morning... something something... uh... delight? Ah, sod it.'_ She'd ask Isabela later...

Beneath the clouds, the horizon to the east was dotted with small rocky islands, and further to the south were the white cliffs of a much more substantial land. Hawke figured they were drawing close to Brandel's Reach, or maybe it was that smaller island to its west, Isle Whatsitsname. The name eluded her.

It was a good thing someone else was doing the navigating.

She leaned forward against the gunwale and drew a deep breath. It had taken only a day for her to come to love the smell of the sea and how it was constantly in motion. It was easy to understand why life aboard ship appealed to Isabela so much. Everything about the ocean was alive and vibrant: the waves, the marine and bird life, the constantly changing weather and scenery. Hightown, with all its oppressive dwarven architecture was like a gilded cage compared to her new home.

She was glad to be rid of Kirkwall.

The Champion sighed. She only half-meant that. She had left behind too many friends there to truly hate the place. Aveline had insisted on staying behind, remaining at her post. Kirkwall depended on its guard, the captain had said, and Hawke wasn't about to argue with her. As for Fenris... well, he had declared his intention to head west, towards Nevarra, Hawke supposed. With Danarius dead, she had no doubt he would be all right.

Still, there was Aveline and Donnic, _and_ Lia, Orana, and the many other friends she had made over the years. All of them were still in Kirkwall as far as she knew.

With Meredith dead, the nobles would have surely insisted Aerin become the next Viscount. It was the last thing she wanted, sitting up in that office all day trying to govern an ungovernable city. She'd end up like Dumar - not that she thought she'd wind up dead by age fifty - but because she'd end up bald from tearing at her hair all day long.

Yes, an uninhibited life on the ocean waves was much to be preferred.

Besides, she liked her hair the way it was.

But still, didn't she owe it to Kirkwall to defend them against what might lie ahead? Had it not been for that city, she might've ended up a lowly mercenary in some backwater village, eeking out a living to support her mother and sister. And that's if she had been lucky.

So, what should she have done? The Chantry would march on Kirkwall, either with an army of templars, an army of Orlesians, or both. What would they do when they got there?

Aerin could only assume that it would be _her_ neck the Orlesians would be after. After all, _somebody_ had to be blamed for the destruction of the chantry.

It wouldn't help that she was Ferelden.

Or that Anders - another Ferelden - had been her friend for over six years.

Emphasis on "had been."

Absently, she glanced up at the sails. The ship was running perpendicular to the wind. That was called beam reach, wasn't it? Or was it broad reach?

The Champion took another deep breath. There was a lot to learn when it came to sailing a ship this size and she doubted she was impressing Isabela with her speed at learning the ropes. Fortunately, the woman was easily distracted with sex.

She smiled, even as her thoughts kept returning to the city she had left behind.

She couldn't have stayed there. Remaining in Kirkwall would have forced her to fight the Chantry and its allies or risk being killed or imprisoned. How could the city stand against such a force, or indeed, _any_ force? Kirkwall was not Starkhaven; it had no army of its own. And what army it did have, in the form of the templars, she and her friends had nearly exterminated just a few nights ago. Aerin couldn't ask the people of Kirkwall to fight for her just to save her own neck.

Kirkwall was safer without her in it, she concluded. But she would never be one-hundred percent sure of that, would she?

As she watched some seagulls fly by, Hawke wondered what the Warden would have done in her place. That woman was a _real_ hero. She had not only saved Denerim from the archdemon, she had saved Ferelden and perhaps all of the Thedas with her sacrifice. The elves in Kirkwall spoke of Kallian Tabris like she had been the second coming of Andraste. There were so many Kallians running around the alienage these days it was a wonder their parents could keep them all straight.

Hawke couldn't help but smile at that. She had been introduced to a few newborns named Aerin in the last three years.

Now, _that_ was surreal.

A warm embrace enveloped her from behind, and Aerin sighed happily as toffee colored hands joined her own on the rail.

"Got you," the pirate drawled, making the Champion shiver. When Isabela spoke into her ear like that, it never failed to make her skin tingle and her stomach flutter.

"Sleep well?"

"I did," she breathed, "once I was finally _allowed_ to sleep."

"It's my duty to see to all the captain's needs," Hawke said, only half-joking as her captain nuzzled her short dark hair.

"And you do it so very well," Isabela agreed, her voice almost a purr.

There was a momentary lull while both women admired the rising sun. A smile came unbidden to Hawke's lips. She couldn't remember ever feeling so happy and so at peace. Sometimes she would even pinch herself when no one was looking.

"So... what were you thinking about?" the pirate asked knowingly.

"The Grey Warden," Hawke admitted.

"Hmm? Which Grey Warden?"

" _The_ Grey Warden."

"Oh, you mean that pretty elf, Kallian Tabris?"

She found herself surprised that Isabela would know the woman's full name. For some reason, most people called her either the Warden, or the Hero of Ferelden. But there was something about Isabela's tone... "You've met her, haven't you?" she inquired, looking back over her shoulder.

"Oh, yes," the pirate said with her typical lopsided smile. There was a hint of pride in her voice when she added, "I actually knew her before she became famous. I even taught her a few things."

_'Taught her things? Wait... what does she mean by_ _ **knew**_ _?'_ Hawke turned and faced her lover, eyes narrowed. "Tell me you didn't sleep with her."

"Okay.  I didn't sleep with her," Isabela said with an easy shrug, though the effect was ruined a little when she winked afterwards.

Hawke couldn't help but laugh, why was she not surprised? "So," she began, leaning back against the rail, "what was she like?"

"Well, she would make this absolutely delicious keening sound just as she was about to -"

"No!" Hawke said a little too loudly, enough to attract the attention of some of the men on deck. At Aerin's annoyed glare they quickly returned to work and she continued, much more quietly this time, "No. I meant, _aside_ from in bed."

"Spoilsport," Isabela said wryly, taking her own spot by the rail and leaning against it, "Well, she was a sweet girl. Seemed to have a lot to prove, but then, she _did_ grow up in an alienage."

Hawke nodded. She couldn't imagine growing up in such a place. "I just wonder what she would've done, had she lived. Would she have stayed in Denerim, trying to make life better for her people? Would she have stayed with the Wardens? Or would she have figured she had done enough and gone off to do what _she_ wanted for a change?"

"Had she survived the archdemon, I think she would've accomplished enough for a hundred lifetimes." Isabela paused and studied Aerin's expression, "Why are you thinking about this?"

"Well, I did kind of leave a big mess behind in Kirkwall."

Isabela rolled her eyes, "And, let me guess, our hero feels responsible for fixing it all?"

The Champion blushed. "Maybe a little..." she admitted with a shrug.

The pirate placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Surely, there's something you can do to help people without sitting on the Viscount's throne, bored out of your mind, and waiting for the next disgruntled petitioner to come and try to chop your head off?"

Aerin shrugged again. She hadn't given the subject a lot of thought; she had been too busy berating herself up over what she was leaving behind.

"I was thinking we could hunt slavers," Isabela said unexpectedly, her busy hand moving up to massage the back of Aerin's neck. "We could make a decent living selling their ships, and collecting rewards. We'd probably have to head towards Rivain but -"

"Hunting slavers? Really?" Hawke interrupted. She hadn't considered that possibility.

"Sure," she said, nodding. "But even if we just became traders, I'm sure we could help out with the mage underground, or whatever noble cause you insist on attaching us to," she added. There was no venom at all in the words.

Hawke lunged at her and hugged her tightly, forcing a laugh out of the woman. "Are you sure you're not pregnant or something?"

Aerin drew back, " _What?_ "

"I'm just trying to come up with an explanation for your mood swings this morning."

The Champion grunted but smiled broadly, her face pressing into the woman's shoulder. "No, I'm just happy."

Isabela's own face was flushed. "Yeah, me too..." she mumbled. Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke didn't miss the way the pirate's eyes scanned the deck and rigging, clearly hoping that the crew hadn't overheard, but that was fine. As long as _she_ knew, that was all that mattered.

"All hands on deck!" came a sudden cry from the crow's nest.

Isabela disentangled herself and was off like a shot, and Hawke could only follow. When she reached the ship's wheel, the pirate captain called up to the men on watch, "What do you see?"

"Two ships on the horizon, following our course," he bellowed, pointing directly aft.

Martin, who had been in command during the night watch, handed Isabela his spyglass.

"Fuck!" the pirate muttered when she finally got a decent look at their pursuers; two ships, both two-masted brigantines. They could almost certainly outrun the Siren's Call. "Orlesians. And they're coming right for us."

Hawke glanced at the bow. They were closing fast on the islands to the south-east. "Surely, they won't attack us here? This is Ferelden territory."

"Aye, but that won't stop 'em," Martin grumbled. "Them maps in Orlais give their borders more - generous - proportions."

Hawke laughed, "Not unlike a bodice, I suppose?"

"Exactly," Isabela said with a wink.

"Bloody Orlesians like to think they still own these waters," Martin continued.

"It's not so bad," the pirate concluded, "brigs usually have small crews. We should be able to fend them off, if they decide to attack."

"You mean they aren't chasing us down to swap recipes?"

"I hope not," Martin grumbled, "Can't stand Orlesian cooking, myself."

"Really? I rather like their open-fruit flans."

There was a loud sigh from the pirate captain. "If you two are quite finished, we'd better rouse the crew."

...

An hour had passed, with the Orlesians ships still gaining, when the Siren's Call finally rounded the south-western tip of Brandal's Reach. And there, hidden in a bay, was a much more substantial ship, an Orlesian frigate, lying in wait just for them.

"But how could they know we were coming?" Hawke asked, returning from the ship's stores with more crossbow bolts for the crew.

"Carrier pigeon, probably?" Isabela offered, "Who knows? Those brigs looked too ragged to be naval vessels, though."

"Bugger..." Martin muttered.

"What?" Hawke demanded, "What is it?"

"They're hired pirates... or privateers you might say, pushing us straight into the arms of the Orlesian navy. Know anyone in Kirkwall who might have wanted us ambushed and killed?"

Hawke's reply was completely serious, "Between me and Isabela, I think we can account for ninety percent of the adult population."

The dashing young captain laughed. "Come on! I've got an idea."

...

Minutes later...

...

"Halte!" came a shout from the ship lying in wait. As expected, being roughly the same size as their own, the Orlesian frigate had approached them fearlessly, sailors on deck raising their weapons, hungry for battle. "Au nom de la Reine, déposez votre ancre et se préparer à être montés!"

"What was all that?" Hawke asked, leaning on her enormous sword. She strained to make herself heard over the din of three dozen shouting men and twenty mages, clattering fore and aft on the deck as they rushed to their positions.

"Halt, and prepare to be mounted, I think," the pirate answered, scrunching her brow.

"You don't speak Orlesian?"

"No." Isabela glanced at her hopefully, "do you?" She cursed when Hawke only shook her head. "Men!" she cried out, "Get ready!" Even in the midst of all this chaos and tension, Aerin couldn't help but think about just how much she enjoyed hearing Isabela order her crew around.

The Siren's Call lurched as the attacking ship drew up alongside. From hidden positions, the enemy threw metal grapples over the side to lock the ships together, but Isabela's own crew made no move to cut them.

Boarding planks went out from the frigate and slammed on top of the gunwale of the Siren's Call. For a brief moment, an eerie silence fell, but then came the expected order, "Attaquez!" and shouting men began storming over the planks. All of the first group found arrows in their chests before they even made it on deck.

The second group did make it and a viscous melee ensued. "Bloody Orlesians!" Isabela cursed, her short daggers giving her an advantage when fighting on the crowded deck, "Don't they have operas to attend, or décolletage to admire or something?"

Hawke grunted, cutting down a man three times her size as he clumsily tried to swing a scimitar at her. His back hit the gunwale and with a push he fell into the sea with a mighty splash. "Have I mentioned your décolletage looks lovely this morning?"

Isabela grinned, though she did that a lot while fighting, "And here I thought you couldn't speak Orlesian."

Two more sailors rushed at them. "Just enough to hit on women," the Champion quipped between thrusts of her sword. The men went down in seconds.

"Hey," Varric called out, "save some for Bianca, will you?"

Another lurch signaled the second enemy ship coming along side. "Cap'n, we've got company!" came a call from starboard.

"Finish up here," the pirate said sweetly, giving Hawke a quick peck on the lips, "I'll take care of this."

Hawke nodded as the pirate dashed to the starboard side. Planks and boarding ladders were already hitting that side of the ship as Isabela pulled out a whistle and gave it a long blow. That was the signal for the mages to come out of hiding.

Hawke almost felt pity for the men and women aboard that ship.

Almost.

"Merde," she muttered, standing briefly entranced by the rain of every school of magic falling in unison onto that enemy vessel, before more shouting from behind reminded her of her own task: assaulting the attacking frigate. "Varric, Tamras, Bethany, you're with me!"

It took Hawke and her little group only a few minutes to clear the upper and lower decks of the attacking ship she learned was called the Terruer. For all the bluster of the assaulting crew, it hadn't really lived up to it's name. The captain was certainly terrible though: terribly drunk, and terribly in need of a bath. He fought hard, as a man does when he feels no pain, but between Hawke and her seasoned companions he hadn't stood a chance.

The ease of it all spoke poorly of the Orlesian Navy... in fact, so did the ragged condition of the interior of the ship, not to mention the crew.

With every man killed or captured, she decided against scuttling the ship; Isabela could determine its fate later. When she was finally back on deck she noted with surprise that the second attacking vessel was now drifting away from the Siren's Call. Its grapples must've been cut at some point. For a second she was worried, but she could see Isabela and several familiar mages and shipmates up on deck leading an assault through the main hatch. They were clearly winning this fight.

But on the Siren's Call itself, there was still sporadic fighting going on. The state of the deck made her feel nauseous; it was absolutely covered in blood, along with other things she didn't want to think about. She hoped it had all come from the Orlesians...

There were ragged looking men by the ship's wheel and she ordered her companions to deal with them. She would've followed but saw Merrill by the mizzenmast raining fire spells down on some men who were making a desperate last stand by the bowsprit. The elf wasn't paying any attention to the burly man advancing behind her.

Without a thought, Hawke grabbed a boarding rope and swung back over to the Siren's Call, deliberately colliding with Merrill's attacker. As far as plans went, it had been one of her weaker ones. The confused man fell backwards right on top of her and she felt muscles in her left leg tearing as they both hit the deck.

"Ffff -" she couldn't even get the word out, the man was crushing the life out of her. Merrill turned when she heard the crash; in an instant she impaled the pirate through the heart with the pointy end of her staff.

"Hawke, are you all right?" Even if she could have spoken, Aerin figured there wasn't enough sarcasm in all the world to properly answer that question. Merrill pulled on the dead man, but she couldn't budge him.

Someone else ran up and fortunately it turned out to be one of the mages. Together, she and Merrill succeeded in pushing the dead man off of the Champion.

Carefully, they got the injured woman to her feet, and Hawke found herself barely able to stand on her own. "Thank you both," she mumbled, rubbing the blood and sweat from her eyes with her forearm. She felt completely ridiculous, letting herself get injured that way.

Suddenly, there was a sickening slicing sound, and to the Champion's horror, the tip of a sword was sticking through the stomach of the young mage who had just helped her.

Not knowing where her sword went to, Aerin grabbed a discarded marlinspike to use as a weapon, but she put too much weight on her injured leg and staggered to the rail. Merrill took a blow to the head with the butt of the attacking man's sword and fell to the blood stained deck.

As Hawke regained her footing, she was conscious of a very tall man leering at her. "Magistrate Vanard sends his regards," he said in a gravelly voice, before thrusting at her with his bloody weapon.

The Champion managed to dodge it, but stumbled and delivered a desperate jab with the eighteen inch piece of iron in her hand that the man easily deflected. She was quickly learning that marlinspikes made lousy weapons for swordplay. Where the hell was her blade? "Forgive me," she said, panting, "I'm really bad with names."

He slashed and the blade cut into her flesh just above the belly button. Hawke grimaced; she hadn't thought to put on even the simplest piece of armor before coming up on deck this morning. Now she was living to regret it. Hopefully, she would live to regret it for many years to come.

Another slash, across the stomach and deeper this time. With her injured leg she just couldn't dodge effectively. Involuntarily, her eyes teared up. The pain was unbearable.

The grinning man kicked her and sent her falling backward to the deck, her head striking a glancing blow against the foremast.

"You remember Kelder? You ought to, you killed him after all!"

The sword thrust forward, Hawke rolled to her right, but not fast enough. It nicked her torso again. With her good leg, she kicked at the looming man, but he easily dodged it.

Stepping forward, he stomped on her wounded chest with a booted foot and left it there. The pain was absolutely excruciating. "I wonder how much he would give to have you brought back alive?"

Was he watching the same battle she was? "You won't make it out alive," she rasped, but doubted he had even heard her; she could barely hear herself.

The man drew back his sword, clearly preparing for one final strike against his helpless victim. To think... it was all going to end this way. She couldn't even mouth the words, _'I'm sorry Isabela...'_

Then the man took a sharp blow to the side of the head. Unbelievably, it was Merrill, a horrific gash above her right eye, wielding her staff like a club. With an absolutely mad look in her eyes, she hit the unprepared man two more times, forcing him off balance - and off the grateful Champion - before he regained his footing, cast his weapon aside and easily swiped the staff from the frenzied elf.

But she wasn't done. Merrill held out both hands, there was a swirl of red mist, and then an enormous force lifted the screaming man right off the deck and sent him flying face first into the sea.

The elf leaned over the rail after him, clearly using blood magic to replenish her magical reserves as she launched spells at him every time his head poked above the water. "Bastard!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, "Bastard shemlen! You killed her!"

Hawke could feel something in the air, something unnatural, something foul. The stench of blood made her nauseous. So much blood, so much death, but this was something else... something much worse.

"He took her from you, little one..." A raspy voice was speaking but Hawke had no idea where it was coming from; it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "I can help you avenge her. I can help you kill them all!"

It almost sounded like a... demon?

_'Maker!'_ her mind screamed, "Merrill!" She had meant to shout it, but the name came out with all the force of a mewling kitten asking for milk.

With her last ounce of strength, Hawke dragged herself up the foremast until she could stand and hop on one leg. The wounds in her stomach burned like a thousand fires and were bleeding horribly; it was only a matter of time before she either died or passed out from the pain. With a hop and an ungraceful lunge, she threw herself at the blood mage.

Instantly, the presence of blood magic disappeared. "Hawke?" The elf squeaked, "You're alive?" Then, with wide-eyed horror, Merrill saw the magnitude of Aerin's injuries and the ashen complexion of her face. Clinging to the dying woman, she shouted as loudly as she could, "Isabela!"

...

The battle had gone fantastically well, the pirate thought. While Hawke's group dealt with the Terreur, Isabela's own group boarded the brig named Erebus, and after only a few minutes or so of fighting they had secured the upper deck. When they finally broke through the hatch it had taken them a while to find the captain. Unbelievably, when things took a turn for the worse he had barricaded himself inside his quarters. What a sad sight _that_ had been...

Clearly, whomever wanted them dead had gone with the pirates that had made the lowest bid. It was pathetic. Everyone should've known the first rule of hiring people to kill for you: if you go with the lowest bidder, expect to get what you pay for.

The interior of the Erebus had been a mess even before Isabela and her crew had broken inside. Really, she knew that pirates had reputations, but no self-respecting pirate would be caught dead on a ship this disgustingly filthy.

Grateful to be back on deck, she hadn't expected the ship to be drifting so far from the still mated Siren's Call and Terreur. Perhaps it had been all that force magic? She'd need to remind the force mages to be a little more careful next time.

Looking up, she saw the spars, rigging, and sails all on fire. The words 'bloody hell' came instantly to mind. "Men, ladies, I think we've overstayed our welcome." Hopeful for loot as they were, the crew readily agreed with the assessment.

Fortunately, some of the surviving enemy pirates had just launched one of the ship's boats. Sailors with crossbows flanking her, it was easy for the Isabela to convince the fleeing men to leave the oars in the boat and swim for shore unaided.

As her men quickly rowed her back to the Siren's Call, the Erebus continued to burn as it crashed against the rocks. Black smoke was billowing into the sky, blocking the horizon.

She worried over the fate of her own ship, but it was reassuring to see familiar faces on its deck waving back at her.

As the dinghy pulled up alongside, that was when she heard it, Merrill screaming - no, more like wailing - her name.

Like a shot, she was on her feet, up the rope ladder, and on top of the blood stained deck. Men, her own sailors fortunately, were returning from the Terreur. She ran in the direction of the screams until she saw it: Hawke lying by the bowsprit, covered in blood and as white as a sheet.

"Hawke!" she cried, falling to her knees in front of the woman and shaking her. She was still breathing!

Merrill was there too. Even on the day she had been banished from her clan, Isabela had never seen her crying like she was at that moment. It looked like her entire world was ending.

Frenzied, Isabela called out, "Dammit! I need a spirit healer! Now!"

In a flash, she found herself flanked by two women, Bethany, and another young elven mage whose name she had forgotten. As the pirate cradled Aerin, the two women placed their hands over her lover's mortally wounded body. With the beautiful blue color of healing magic surrounding her, she sat there amazed as the deep gashes knitted themselves back together before her very eyes and some of the color returned to Hawke's face. The woman in her arms began coughing.

"Hawke?"

The Champion opened her eyes, and her mouth slowly dropped open; she was witnessing something no one in Thedas had seen in thirty years, the sight of Isabela crying.

Through her tears, Isabela saw that Aerin was still alive and locked her in an almost bone crushing hug.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" she sobbed, face pressed against Hawke's own.

"I'm so sorry Bela," Hawke croaked, gasping both in pain and in surprise over the woman's tears.

"From now on you wear your armor every time you step out on deck. That's an order!" she demanded, still sniffling.

Aerin smiled even as it felt like she was being squeezed to death, "Yes, captain."

"And we're keeping a spirit healer on board from now on." _'As well as any mages who want to stay,'_ she thought. The ability to throw fire at their enemies would definitely significantly improve their chances in a fight.

There was a long pause while Isabela continued to embrace the woman, heedless of the crowd gathering around them. Never in her adult life had she lost control of herself like this. It was very unsettling that Aerin could do this to her.

But she had almost died. Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, had almost died. How, Isabela thought, could she be expected to live through that?

"You made me cry in front of my men," she accused, smiling even as she sniffled and the tears continued to roll down her cheeks, "Now I'm going to have to whip them so they remember to fear me."

All the men watching took a nervous step back.

...

One ship captured, one burning and broken up on the rocks. Not bad, Isabela had to admit.

Though she should've known that frigate wasn't Orlesian Navy when they first caught sight of the crew.  Orlesians always kept their uniforms in immaculate conditon after all.  Perhaps she was still a bit rusty...

She smiled as she admired the smoke from the still burning Erebus.  It figured this was the work of someone they had ticked off years ago.  She had to give Magistrate Vanard credit though: the man sure knew how to hold a grudge.  If only he wasn't such a cheapskate.  Surely, Hawke and herself were worth sending more than two pirate ships -

Wait, weren't there three ships?

And then, through the smoke came that other damned Orlesian brigantine. This close she finally noticed how its forward sails were littered with holes. Vanard must've really scraped the bottom of the barrel when he hired those guys, she thought.

Still, the ship was heading almost straight at them. Isabela wearily pushed herself off the rail. She didn't know if she had another fight left in her right now.

"Ferelden dogs!" came a booming, heavily accented shout from the approaching ship, "you will pay for what you have done here!"

The pirate queen rolled her eyes. "Bloody Orlesians," she muttered, they were seldom very imaginative when it came to insults. _'Ferelden dogs. Yeah,_ _**that's** original.'_

Then there came confused shouts from the ship, "Arrêt! Arrêt!" followed by the inexplicable sight of crew members jumping overboard. _'What the bloody hell?'_ A loud bang followed and the Orlesian frigate lurched to starboard, and through the smoke another ship at full sail appeared, its massive ram shining in the sunlight as it tore through the enemy's hull. Timbers moaned, then splintered, then burst apart, and before Isabela's very eyes, the Orlesian ship broke in two. __

_'Maker!  A lifetime of free drinks at the Pearl for whoever is captaining that ship,'_ Isabela thought.

She was going to owe a lot of people drinks if this kept up.

...

It took several minutes before the ship that had saved them was able to draw alongside. In the interim, Isabela was pleased to see that only two mages had died, and that the majority of her crew were still in one piece. Already, the men had removed the bodies and some began the labor intensive process of holystoning the deck and replacing damaged cables and canvass.

She'd give Martin credit for picking good men.

Even better, the crew seemed enormously relieved to discover that Hawke was going to pull through. Some of the men even hugged her, though not for too long with Isabela keeping a sharp eye on them. Still, there was something touching about the sight of a bunch of burly old sailors with tears in their eyes.

That was good, Isabela thought. If the men loved Hawke, then they would risk their lives to protect her. Aerin would be in safe hands aboard this ship.

Not literally, though. That was _her_ job.

She spotted Merrill over by the rail, looking at the still burning Erebus with tears in her eyes.

"Hey, Kitten," she began, tilting up the elf's chin to get a better look at the wound over her eye, "we should get that looked at."

Merrill sniffled, then locked the pirate in a surprisingly tight hug.

The elf immediately started crying again. "Shh... shh..." Isabela soothed, rubbing the woman's back, "Hawke is going to be just fine."

Merrill only nodded, keeping her face buried in the pirate's shoulder.

After some gentle coaxing, Isabela managed to convince the woman to go and see a healer. The pirate returned to find Hawke leaning against the mainmast. All of her cuts had been healed, but she still looked pale. That was to be expected. After all, she had lost a fair amount of blood.

Isabela had an almost nonexistent bedside manner, but even in her exhausted state she made the effort for Hawke, "You should really go lie down or something."

Aerin nodded weakly. "I wanted to thank you first."

The pirate snorted. "Please. I didn't do anything. You should be thanking your sister, and that elf mage." _'What **was** her name again?'_ "Um..."

"Tamras," spoke a soft voice from behind. The elf in question wiped the handle of her staff clean with a scarf while wearing a lopsided grin that reminded Isabela a little too much of herself.

_'This one might be trouble,'_ she mused. Not that trouble was necessarily a problem of course, Isabela rather liked trouble. "Right. Tamras, can you help our hero to my quarters?"

Hawke grumbled both at Isabela's flippant tone, and for being sent away like an invalid, but she did as she was told.

Watching them leave, the pirate wondered if maybe that had been a bad idea. Hawke seemed to have a thing for elves... or perhaps it was more accurate to say that elves had a thing for Hawke. After all, there was Merrill, and Lia, _and_ that rogue Tallis...

Before she could make to follow them, Bethany stopped her. "How is she?"

"She'll be fine," the pirate sighed, stamping down her worries. She looked Aerin's sister up and down, "You look worse than she does. No offense." _'How can a mage get so covered in blood when they always fight at a distance?'_ she wondered.

Bethany smiled. "None taken."

"Cap'n!" Martin interrupted gruffly, gesturing at a dark haired man following behind him, "this guy wants to talk to you." Isabela grinned at the annoyed look on the tall man's face. Some mariners found pirates a bit hard to take, although Martin was actually rather more polite than your average pirate.

She shared a handshake with what she assumed was the captain of the ship that had just rescued them. He seemed vaguely familiar, or at least his armor did; all silver and highly polished as it was.  "Have we met before?" He didn't look like anyone she had ever slept with at least.

"Nathaniel Howe," he said, dipping his head slightly, "we met in the deep roads."

_'Ah, that was it,'_ the pirate thought. She really wished she had never gone to the place, though it seemed to have paid off now. "You do realize you just sank an Orlesian warship?  Well, a stolen one, at any rate."

"Indeed," Nathaniel said with a grin, "I've kind of always wanted to do that."

They both laughed. "So, not that I'm not thankful and all that, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Well, I was on my way to Kirkwall, looking for some renegade Wardens," the man began, glancing with humor over at Bethany, "It seems you decided to spare me the trip."

Bethany smiled nervously, "Nice to see you, Nathaniel. Would you believe I was just on my way to find you?"

* * *

A week later, on the docks of Denerim...

...

"You're sure you won't stay, Kitten?"

"No... I think I might go to the Brecilian Forest. I need sometime alone to think."

"You could do that on the ship," Isabela offered. She'd never admit it, but she was worried about Merrill and would've preferred to have her stay on board so she could keep an eye on her. Discreetly, of course.

"You don't understand. When that rage demon spoke to me, I almost let it take over. I was so angry I almost believed what it told me... I just need..." she trailed off, evidently unsure of what to say.

The pirate frowned. Merrill was right, she didn't understand. She wouldn't pretend to know what it was like to be a mage. While it was true that Isabela had been tempted by a demon in the fade once, she hadn't been in danger of being possessed by it. Not with Hawke there.

Hawke saved everyone. She always saved everyone, it seemed. But this time, considering how Merrill felt about her, perhaps it would be better for the elf if she and Aerin were kept far apart for a while.

Yes, she would have to let Merrill go.

"Well," the pirate began, holding out a folded sheet of paper, "if you won't change your mind, then this is for you."

Merrill took the proffered piece of paper and unfolded it, blushing horribly when she saw what it was: a surprisingly well-drawn picture of Aerin Hawke lying on a bed... naked.

"I drew it myself. Just don't let Hawke see it," the pirate whispered into her ear.

The elf nodded eagerly.

...

Fittingly, Varric was the last person to say goodbye.

"Off to the Pearl, I suppose?" Isabela asked. She wouldn't say this either, but she was going to miss him dearly too. Thankfully, she hadn't cried anymore since that incident on deck. Her reputation couldn't weather any more outbursts like that.

"I could be persuaded," was the dwarf's nonchalant reply as he watched Merrill give Aerin a goodbye hug.

"But where to after that?"

"I might actually stay for a while. I think there will be quite a market here for a story about yet another hero of Ferelden."

Hawke grunted, eyes on Varric as Merrill continued to hug her. Isabela knew that Aerin didn't think of herself as being much of a hero, and certainly didn't think of herself as being on anywhere near the same level as Kallian Tabris. The woman could be infuriatingly humble sometimes.

"So," the dwarf drawled, glancing at Isabela, "what about you, Rivaini?"

"I think you know where I'll be... Orzammari?"

He scoffed. "That was the _worst_ nickname I've ever heard."

Isabela smiled and scratched the back of her head, "Yeah, sorry."

"So, you'll be sailing the Waking Sea with this new found treasure of yours, I presume?" he asked, gesturing with his chin in Hawke's direction as the woman in question chatted with Merrill. She noted that the elf was doing a commendable job of keeping Hawke from seeing what she had given her.

"Indeed. I may actually keep _this_ particular treasure. She does wonders for my cabin I think. Really ties the whole room together."

"No plans for burying her then?"

"Only if she starts up with those horrible nautical puns again," Isabela said with a visible shiver.

They both laughed when Hawke moaned, "I'm standing right here, you know?"

* * *

Extra Bonus chapter:

* * *

That night, aboard the Siren's Call...

...

Pirates were known to be single-minded in their pursuits, whether they were after treasure, or rum, or women. If a pirate really wanted something, they would use all the powers at their disposal to get it.

Isabela considered herself to be the best pirate in Thedas, and at this moment, she had just one solitary purpose in her life: to physically show Aerin Hawke just how much she loved her.

A week ago she had almost lost her forever, and though she survived, the spirit healers on board had insisted Hawke take it easy for a while. It went unsaid, but Isabela knew that meant no sex, or at least, not _too much_ sex. But now that the woman was fully healed, she was going to show Aerin physically what she couldn't seem to adequately express verbally. She would give the Champion of Kirkwall the single greatest night of lovemaking she had ever experienced. And if it killed the gasping woman lying naked on her bed, well, at least she would die happy.

So, that was why she was where she was now, between the Champion's legs. She realized at that moment that it was becoming her favorite place in the entire world to be. It even beat standing out on deck during a storm, or commanding a ship in the heat of battle. Here, she was commanding Hawke, and well, Hawke was like a ship, only with breasts... and... uh... perhaps that metaphor wasn't working out, but it was quickly forgotten as her lover cried and bucked underneath her. It was a good thing Tamras had placed that silencing charm on the walls after their first night at seea, otherwise the men would be getting an earful right now.

Again, Hawke bucked in the throes of passion as Isabela worked on her with expert tongue and fingers. Pleasing Aerin Hawke with her mouth was was not unlike trying to ride out a hurricane in a jolly boat. From her copious experience with the woman, she knew that if she wasn't careful she might be kicked right off the bed.

The woman was feisty.

And also very, very, wet, Isabela noted happily.

So yeah, Hawke _was_ just like a ship, she thought, amused with herself and pleased to have salvaged her earlier metaphor. Aerin, meanwhile, was growing more and more vocal.

Finally, Hawke broke the only rule Isabela had set for her tonight: she let go of the headboard and tangled her hands in her captain's hair. Again, she moaned. The pirate knew she was getting close.

When it came to sex, Hawke was always so maddeningly gentle with those hands. Even in the throes of passion, she never pulled her hair, unless Isabela specifically asked her to. The woman had even apologized during their first time together when she actually _had_ bucked the pirate right off the bed.

That night, Isabela had attributed Aerin's enthusiasm to her having not gotten any "action" for a while, as unlikely as it was for Isabela to imagine such a thing. But she soon came to realize that Hawke was always like that in bed, or at least, she was when Isabela was also in it. She really should've known what she was getting into that very first night. There had never been a lover like Aerin Hawke.

And now she could feel Hawke begin to unravel. "Oooooh, Maker!" she cried out.

Finally, the woman's lithe body tense and Hawke screamed her name so loudly Isabela couldn't help but feel it was the proudest moment of her life.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Hawke breathed as the pirate helped her ride out her orgasm before sliding up the panting woman's body.

"I love you too," she whispered into the woman's ear, and she could feel Aerin's surprise. Probably hundreds of times Hawke had said it, yet Isabela had never actually said the words back, always preferring instead to dance around them. But this time, she _needed_ Hawke to know.

Hawke ran her fingers along the pirate's jaw and nudged her until the pirate captain was staring down into the woman's piercing blue eyes. Isabela couldn't help but be moved by the emotion she saw in them now.

"I know -" the pirate breathed, her voice wavering, "I know I haven't said it before, but I do love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course, Bela. I've known for months," Hawke said with a little awed smile, her eyes looking as watery as Isabela's own probably did at that point.

The pirate's only response was to kiss the woman hard, lest she make a fool of herself and start crying from happiness or something. _'I love you, I love you, I love you,'_ were the only words running through her mind.

Pausing briefly to catch her breath, she felt Aerin preparing to flip her onto her back, so Isabela quickly pinned the Champion's hands with her own.

"Not tonight, Hawke. I'm not done with you yet. Not even close."

The Champion gulped as the pirate's lips moved to a throat already covered in bruises that had nothing to do with last week's battle. As her teeth sank into flesh once more, the rogue's nimble fingers traveled slowly back down Aerin's well-toned body.

...

Hawke woke up, gasping heavily with concerned eyes looking down at her.

"You blacked out there for a minute."

The light of dawn was coming through the cabin windows. _'All night?'_ she wondered even as she struggled to calm herself. That would explain why she could barely move and couldn't seem to remember her own name. "You know," she said panting as she weakly wiped the sweat from her brow, "sometimes I think you might be a desire demon in disguise."

Isabela's eyes flashed purple for the briefest moment and she purred in a voice that was reassuring yet also somehow alien, "Oh, you know that's impossible." Hawke gasped as she felt unusually sharp nails scraping up and down her stomach. There was a vague hint magic in the air. "Now go back to sleep, my pet."  The warm and loving tone immediately calmed Aerin's heart.

"Yes, mistress..." Hawke said dreamily, lying back down and happily wrapping her arms around her lover once again. Soothed by the warmth of the pirate's body, she sighed in contentment and quickly fell back to sleep.

...

Hawke's eyes shot open. She gasped heavily as her naked lover looked down at her.

"You blacked out there for a minute," the woman said, concern evident in her voice as her hands traced Hawke's firm stomach.

Again, the light of dawn was shining through the cabin windows. Had it all been - "I think I just had the strangest dream..."

"Were you naked?" the pirate asked, nuzzling her sweaty brow against Hawke's own.

"Yes."

"And did you have sex?"

"Oh, Maker, yes," she breathed, "All night, in fact."

Isabela nibbled at her bruised neck. "That was no dream."

_'Maker!'_ Memories of last night flashed through her mind: Isabela between her legs, licking her, sucking her, strong hands clinging to her, making her entire being ache for more. And every time she came, the woman would begin anew. She had never been taken so thoroughly in all her life. She had never felt so thoroughly loved in all her life.

And then she remembered what the pirate had said...

_'She loves me...'_

She couldn't help but grin like an idiot, or at least she grinned until she felt a hand slowly travel up her thigh, its intended destination clear. _'Bloody hell! S_ _he's ready to go **again**?'_

Still, that odd memory of something purple was pestering her. "Are..." she stumbled with the question, almost afraid to ask something so stupid, but she blurted it out before Isabela's divine hands could get to their destination, "Are you sure you're not a desire demon in disguise?"

Isabela pushed herself up again to look down at her. She titled her head, brow furrowed, evidently in confusion over being asked such a ridiculous question. Then that grin Hawke had fallen in love with slowly reappeared and the pirate winked before capturing Aerin's lips in a fierce kiss.

"I love you, you goose," she breathed, smiling down at her. "But," she added, eyes sparkling in the morning sun, "perhaps it's time for another demonstration?"

Hawke gasped then as Isabela's hand found its mark. _'No way is any desire demon **this** good,'_ she concluded.

**Author's Note:**

> No, Isabela isn't actually a desire demon. :)


End file.
